Secrets and Lies Part I

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Day one on Planet Earth. Happy Birth Day. A day to be legally falsified, shrouded in lies and secrets. The record I produce for my entire life will bear this tale. My own genetic history kept a mystery. Something I was not entitled to thanks to the mistakes, insecurities and decisions of everyone but me. It took me thirty six guilt laden years before I permitted myself to feel deserving enough and to put my needs before those who were supposed to put mine first.

 

Golden Globe

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Meryl Streep’s departing line of her acceptance speech. The best artists are oftentimes those who are the most tortured of souls. My Happiness Project journal prompt last night brought me to a stark realization. I have been frantically searching for the past 2 years (the years of the dark night of my soul), for that which brings me happiness. I used to know this very easily. Even though I also used to know utter torture as well, I also used to know and have extreme happiness and joy in my life also. I have been desperately seeking that in so many different facets and coming up empty-handed. New and old are all disappointing me equally. Music seems to be the only thing that still never fails me, only I can fail it. In to it, I always pour my broken heart…

Renewal

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At the culmination of each year, everyone starts to think about what their New Year’s Resolutions will be. Ringing in a New Year is often seen as a sign of renewal or rebirth for a good majority of the world. I get the added bonus, or catharsis depending on your vantage point, of my birthday falling on December 21st, a few days shy of the New Year Renewal Ritual.

My birthday has always brought with it a lot of bittersweet emotions. I have always attributed this to the fact that I am adopted, and many other adoptees attest to the fact that they too struggle with their birthday each year. It is a reminder of the life I could have had, a reminder of the fact that I was surrendered or given up because I was a burden to those I was born to, a reminder of the loss of birthrights that every other class of humans that walk this earth are entitled to, a reminder that the parents I grew up with are not the parents that gave birth to me and are not my genetic link to my ancestors or geneology. And I believe my adoptive parents have always subconsciously felt this reminder at my birthday because throughout the years, they have successfully ruined many birthdays for me; from yelling at me because I was sick, to grounding or yelling at me because I was a half hour late coming home from my 21st birthday celebration, to flat out forgetting to call me one year. Yet these are the same people who call me by 3 pm to remind me to call the other parent on their birthday if I hadn’t called yet because they thought I had forgotten.

Heading in to the New Year is always a compounded vortex of sensitivities for me. Facing the open wounds of my recent birthday woes and trying to set new goals for the upcoming year ahead all within a short period of time.

My husband recently made the comment that in years past he always goes in to each year with a positive outlook, hoping and thinking that the new year will be better than the last, planning for it to be with all the goals to set in motion to make it so. This seems like the way that most people step in to the New Year. And it is always joked about that most people fall off their own bandwagon shortly thereafter. My husband said he might do things different this year and go in to this coming year with the expectation that things will be the same, or even get worse and it will just be a surprise bonus if things turn out good for once. His words lingered in my mind.

I think he is on to something. At least for the way things work in our world, this might be the best way for us to approach our life. It may seem pessimistic and negative to the rest of the free world. This may be why we have become hermits and loners in our old age. We don’t associate well with everyone else and others can’t seem to handle our way of dealing with life.

As with my last quote that I posted, hope devalues acceptance. The more I seem to have hope that things will get better, the more expectations I have of how things are supposed to be, or that some day things will get better. And with each passing day when things don’t get better, during those moments when things take the opposite turn and get worse when I thought I was already pretty low on the totem pole (yes, I realize there are always people out there who have it worse than me), I fall deeper in to depression and feel hopeless, wanting to resist my life and run away from everything-starting over from scratch where no one knows me. This blog is sort of a testament to that, because no one who knows me has access to or knows about this blog. It is my little secret from those who know me in real life.

My “hope” (love the irony there) is that if I face the New Year setting out to accept my life and accept where I am in it and who I have become and am becoming/shifting to become, then I might find some renewal and clarity, this helping me to move forward, rather than staying stuck in this holding pattern of utter depression where I have no real game plan for how to truly get my life in order so that I can move in the direction of up.

via Daily Prompt: Renewal

Moody Blues

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I can be one of the moodiest people out there. I am medicated for anxiety, that is what flips my switch and causes my moody outbursts. My hyper worry mode spins my brain into hyper drive and spawns many different reactions depending on the situation. But as soon as I realize that I have had an improper reaction to something and caused someone any form of heartache, I immediately apologize and try to change in the future. I am always working on evolving and bettering myself.

I personally like moody people because they usually have more spunk to them and are more lively with more zest for life. Where the problems come in for me is that there is a fine line with moodiness. Just as there is a fine line between genius and insanity. There are people who have mood swings that they take out on others with no remorse where every little thing that others do or say bothers them, and they see everything as the problem of everyone else and never see themselves as the problem. Or they know they have a problem and don’t care and still pick out every little perceived flaw of everyone else they encounter and run with it. These people pick puppets to do their bidding and tether them around on strings, hiding them away from all others that they used to associate with. These exceptionally moody people can be very charismatic and appealing, especially to those who are needy. And then they are sucked in like a cult. These people alienate their puppets and grow even stronger in their moody ways because they are convinced that they are safe because they have someone who will put up with their moodiness without them having to even be apologetic and remorseful. They have their cake and can eat it too.

We are two separate breeds of moody, and this breed of moody clashes very adamantly with the non-remorseful, cult like brand.

I feel it to heal it. They blame to shame.

via Daily Prompt: Moody

Humanity Switch

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Knurd (drunk spelled backwards) is “the opposite of being drunk. It’s as sober as you can ever be. It strips away all the illusion, all the comforting pink fog in which people normally spend their lives, and lets them see and think clearly for the first time ever. Then, after they’ve screamed a bit, they make sure they never get knurd again” – Terry Pratchett

The problem with me is that, I have never spent my life in that pink fog. The only pink fog I have lived through are the rose colored glasses that I once saw the world through due to living in what I thought was a sheltered bubble. My parents sheltered me from the real world, while exposing me to so much other inner torture that many others don’t have to experience. And I live with that inner torture without the pink fog….totally “knurd”. I have never turned to drugs, nicotine or alcohol. I have lived my tortured life completely sober. The worst vice I have is food/sweets. A little bit of a spending/shopping issue. But nothing outlandish. The pain is becoming far too much to bear. I wish I could shut down, shut it off like a humanity Switch. I am an extremely sensitive person and I get hurt every step of the way. One would think I would be immune to hurt by now, but I’m not. I have begun to shut out the world. The less human relationships I have, the less I have to deal with. I wish I could live on a deserted island. Being a sensitive, feeling human being sucks. No one understands me. I have drifted further and further away from understanding and wanting to be a part of the human connection. It’s just not worth it anymore. The hurt outweighs the good for me. I wish I could find my way back, but I fear I have seen too much…